


To Turn and Look Back When Thou Hearest the Sound of My Name

by lachatblanche



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Regency, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-20 21:00:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4802066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/pseuds/lachatblanche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>North and South AU.</p><p>Erik, the master of the Genosha steel mill in the north, has lived a hard life, building his industry from scratch with the aid of his adopted sibling, Emma. When Charles Xavier, a young, southern gentleman, takes up residence near the mill, Erik finds himself drawn to him, despite Charles making it very clear that he cares neither for the north nor for Erik. </p><p>Based on Elizabeth Gaskell’s novel (takes place about midway through the story).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The section that this fic is based on takes place a good halfway into the novel but hopefully it should be clear what is happening even if you haven't read the book.
> 
> Mild spoilers for 'North and South'.
> 
> Also, angst.

Mr. Lehnsherr stood beside the window, staring out at the steelyard beside which the house was built. He regarded the scurrying workers intently, his eyebrows drawn together in a familiar look of the deepest concentration, before finally speaking in a low, toneless voice.

‘You know what I must do, Emma.’

Miss Frost stirred from where she was sitting in her armchair and looked up at him, her blue eyes sharp and piercing. Society had accepted her as sister to Mr. Lehnsherr despite there being no blood relation between them, and this scowl – the same one that so often graced the Lehnsherr forehead – was proof of their siblinghood. ‘I know,’ she said shortly, and although her expression was severe there was an element of deep-seated resignation there as well, as if this were something that she had long foreseen. ‘I cannot convince you to do otherwise?’

Erik glanced over his shoulder, meeting her gaze. ‘Would you expect me to stand aside at such a moment?’ he asked quietly.

Emma closed her eyes. ‘No,’ she said, sounding tired. ‘I would not. You always do what you feel is right, Erik, and in this case … in this case I fear that you not only feel that you must do it, but that you _want_ to as well.’

Erik said nothing. He simply continued to look out of the window, his profile stern and unflinching against the pane.

Emma watched him for a moment and then sighed. ‘I knew it,’ she said with the barest hint of a smile, her expression wry. ‘I knew it the moment that he came into our lives that he would be the one to take you from me.’ Her face settled into a look of rare gentleness as Erik glanced up at her, startled. ‘It is why I did not want you to go to him last night. I wanted it to be just the two of us again one last time … before I lose you to him once and for all.’

Erik strode over to Emma’s side and swiftly sank down to one knee. ‘You will never lose me,’ he said fervently, reaching out to clasp her hand. ‘Never, Emma. You are my oldest friend – my _only_ friend, the only one who has ever cared for me and believed in me and never lost faith. You are the reason that I am the man that I am today.’ He then swallowed and slowly retracted his hand. ‘But – Mr. Xavier …’

‘Yes.’ Emma’s mouth tightened. ‘Mr. Xavier.’

Erik struggled visibly for a moment. ‘I know—’ he said at last, ‘I know that I do not deserve him—’

Emma immediately turned a fierce look on him but Erik continued on. 

‘— and I know that he does not love me – that he _cannot_ love me, that he has time and time again expressed his dislike for me and for my ways … that I have no reason to hope—’

‘You have every reason!’ Emma interrupted sharply, reaching out and digging her nails into his arm. ‘The man all but threw away his reputation by doing as he did this morning. No one would risk so much without good reason.’

‘He is a gentleman,’ Erik said, shaking his head. ‘And he acted as any gentleman would. He did as he did simply because he feared for my life, Emma. I cannot believe that he did it out of any great love for me.’

‘You think he acted as any gentleman would?’ Emma’s lip curled into a sneer. ‘He used his Ability to halt the attack of a score of men! He exposed himself in public and what is more, he exposed himself as a Psionic. We both know first hand how dim a view society takes of the Extra Able, let alone those with powers of the mind. Do you think that Mr. Xavier will be in a position to receive offers from here on? That anyone of standing will risk potential ostracism for the sake of courting him? No,’ she shook her head firmly, ‘he knows very well where he stands. He will accept you, Erik. And what is more – he will _want_ to.’

Erik stayed silent, but a glimmer of hope sparked in his eyes in spite of his efforts to suppress it. Slowly, he bent down and pressed his lips to Emma’s cold hand, resting his forehead on her wrist.

Emma looked down at his bowed head for a moment, her expression unreadable. ‘I will not wish you luck,’ she said at last. ‘Not because I do not wish you success, but because you will not need it.’ She watched as Erik raised his head and she met his gaze unflinchingly. ‘He will accept you, Erik. He would be a fool not to, and however little I care for him, I know very well that he is no fool.’ 

Erik said nothing but he squeezed her wrist and rose to his feet. ‘I shall return soon,’ he said quietly, before turning around and departing through the parlour door.

Emma remained in her chair, watching after him until he disappeared from view. It was only when she heard the door of the house shut firmly behind him a minute later that she turned her head back again, her face expressionless and her eyes once more fixed on the large windows in front of her. There she sat and, just as she did each day, she surveyed the view before her, quietly watching over the steel empire that the two of them had built together with their blood, sweat and tears, and she waited.

*****

Erik had been waiting in the tiny parlour for almost ten minutes before the housekeeper, Miss MacTaggert, ushered a slightly confused Mr. Xavier inside.

‘Mr. Lehnsherr,’ Xavier greeted him, allowing his face to settle into a pleasant expression as they laid eyes on each other. ‘I am very sorry for the delay, I was with my mother. I’m afraid that she finds it rather difficult to get to sleep these days, and so I have taken to sitting with her until she is able to rest.’

Erik, who had stood up the moment that Mr. Xavier had entered, frowned at this. ‘I am sorry to hear it,’ he said, his voice low but sincere. ‘If there is anything that I or my sister can do for her, Mr. Xavier, please do not hesitate to let us know.’

Charles bowed his head at that. ‘I thank you,’ he said gravely. He made his way to the seat in front of Erik and, together, they sat down. ‘Your family has been very kind to us, sir, more so than we could have hoped. I know that Miss Frost must have been very busy yesterday, what with the trouble at the steel mill, but she has already sent over the new mattress that I requested for my mother and it has been of great use to her already.’ He gave Erik a small smile. ‘Please do send my earnest thanks to your sister, Mr. Lehnsherr, and let her know that I will call on her shortly to thank her in person.’

‘I will,’ Erik said gruffly.

There was a pause. Charles waited, looking at Erik expectantly. ‘Is that why you are here?’ he ventured after the silence had continued for an unreasonable length of time. ‘To enquire about my mother?’

‘No,’ Erik shook his head quickly. Then he grimaced, looking abashed. ‘Well – yes, of course. And my sister naturally sends her regards to your mother. But – I am here on an altogether different business, Mr. Xavier.’

Charles frowned, his eyebrows pulling together across his forehead. ‘I see,’ he said, sounding slightly puzzled. He then shook his head. ‘Forgive me, I am being a terrible host. Would you care for some refreshment, Mr. Lehnsherr? I can send Miss MacTaggert for—’

‘No,’ Erik said hurriedly, startling Charles with his vehemence. ‘No interruptions.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I … do not wish to be disturbed,’ he explained as Charles watched him uncertainly. ‘And I have no need of any refreshment.’

‘I see,’ Charles said slowly, lowering his arm back down to his lap. ‘Well – in that case, please do say what you need to, Mr. Lehnsherr.’

Erik nodded. Steeling himself, he took a deep breath. ‘Mr. Xavier – _Charles_ ,’ he began, the use of the forename causing Charles to visibly startle. ‘I – Permit me to start by offering you my most sincere and heartfelt thanks for the exceptional service you rendered me yesterday afternoon at the steelyard.’

Charles’s cheeks grew red. ‘You are most welcome,’ he said, looking rather embarrassed. ‘Please, do not mention it any further.’

‘I must,’ Erik said stubbornly, shaking his head and abruptly rising to his feet. ‘It is yesterday’s events that have given me the courage – that have given me the _cause_ – to come to you today.’ He paused. ‘Indeed,’ he said carefully. ‘I flatter myself that my visit here today is not entirely unexpected.’

Charles’s brow creased at this, an expression of bemusement crossing his face. ‘On the contrary,’ he said, sounding slightly bewildered. ‘I haven’t the slightest idea what brings you here today, Mr. Lehnsherr.’

Erik gave him a sharp look. He studied Charles’s face before frowning and forcibly shaking his doubts away. ‘That cannot be true,’ he said firmly, straightening his shoulders. ‘I cannot conceive that you would be so unaware of my purpose here.’ He hesitated and then shook his head. ‘In any case, it matters very little. Will you allow me to continue?’

‘Certainly,’ Charles said, unfailingly polite – and not a little curious.

Feeling encouraged, Erik cleared his throat and straightened his back. ‘I know that we have not always got along, you and I,’ he began, choosing his words with care. ‘Though I hope that we have never been enemies.’ He paused, waiting for Mr. Xavier to say something to that but when Charles did not speak, he swiftly moved on. ‘And though we may not have started out on the friendliest of terms, I would like to hope that this has changed over time.’ He hesitated and then determinedly took a step forward. ‘I have come to admire you, Mr. Xavier, both for your intelligence as well as for your passion, and in spite of your naiveté regarding how things work in the north and your determination to wilfully misunderstand everything that I say and do—’

‘I do not!’ Charles protested at once, before flushing red at Erik’s pointed look.

‘As I was saying,’ Erik continued, feeling a bit braver. ‘I admire you excessively, Mr. Xavier, and while I know that the feelings are perhaps not entirely mutual, I hope that with time things will be different. I—’ he swallowed. ‘I want you by my side, Charles.’

It at last seemed to dawn on Charles where this speech was leading, as his face suddenly went pale and his hands began to twist in his lap. ‘Please,’ he interrupted. ‘Mr. Lehnsherr – I ask you to stop.’

Erik did not stop. ‘It is with this in view that I come here today,’ he continued, forging ahead determinedly. ‘In order that I may say to you those words which have been held inside my heart since the moment I saw you.’

‘Mr. Lehnsherr,’ Charles said warningly, his jaw tight.

‘ _Charles_ ,’ the words were breathed out gently, almost reverently, and Erik, his eyes fixed on Charles’s, stepped forward and sank down to one knee. ‘Would you do me the very great honour of—’

‘I said _stop_!’

Erik went still. The words, which had been delivered at a near shout, were nothing compared to the reinforcing constraints of Charles’s telepathic Ability.

‘That is _enough_ , sir,’ Charles was saying, and his previous expression of unhappiness had changed into one of barely suppressed anger. ‘I cannot allow you to go any further.’ He turned away, hiding his face from view. ‘Please get up at once before the both of us are embarrassed any further.’

Erik’s face had gone stark white at Charles’s command to stop but now it was as marble: still and hard and unreadable. Slowly, never taking his eyes away from Charles, he rose to his feet.

Charles seemed relieved when Erik was once again standing. ‘Thank you,’ he said briskly. ‘I—’

‘Embarrassed,’ Erik repeated quietly. ‘Do you find my advances embarrassing, Mr. Xavier?’

Charles paused, momentarily startled by the question, but then he raised his chin bravely. ‘Yes, I do,’ he answered in a firm voice, before giving Erik a sharp look. ‘But not because the advances are yours, Mr. Lehnsherr. I assure that I would be equally mortified if anyone were to say the same to me.’

Erik’s jaw tightened. He did not speak for a minute. ‘I assume then,’ he said when he was at last able to do so, his voice toneless, ‘that you wish to turn me down.’

‘There is nothing to turn down,’ Charles said stiffly. ‘Since no offer was made.’

‘Because you did not allow me to make it!’

‘And that should tell you all you want to know, sir!’

Erik wrestled with the anger rising in his chest, forcing it down as best he could. It would not do to lose his temper at such a time. ‘I confess,’ Erik said tightly when he could at last speak. ‘I find myself confused. Your actions yesterday—’

‘What about my actions?’ Charles asked sharply.

Erik gritted his teeth. ‘They indicated an attachment on your part,’ he said, speaking with very deliberate restraint, ‘And a modicum of feeling towards me that made me assume that a proposal would not be unwelcome. I would not have made an offer had I not thought your actions proof that you harboured some kindness of feeling for me.’

‘I assure you,’ Charles said coldly, ‘You are very much mistaken. I did not act out of any tender or romantic feeling towards you, Mr. Lehnsherr – I simply did as my conscience dictated.’ When Erik continued to look at him sceptically, he added, rather defiantly, ‘I would have done as much for any man.’

Erik was unable to prevent himself from flinching at that. ‘Any man?’ he repeated, his brow darkening. ‘I see. Then it seems that I ought to apologise for having thought myself to be _special_.’

‘Have I ever done anything to suggest that you _were_?’ Charles immediately retorted.

Erik felt his hands clench into fists, his chest tight. ‘No,’ he said, averting his eyes and smiling bitterly. ‘No one could accuse you of that.’

Charles’s hands twitched, but he directed his gaze ahead with an air of stubborn defiance.

Erik watched him for a moment. ‘You are truly surprised by my offer,’ he said at last, forcing himself to speak even though it pained him. ‘You truly had no conception that I might speak to you as I did?’

‘No,’ Charles said stiffly. ‘I did not.’

‘Ah,’ Erik’s mouth curled up into a humourless smile. ‘You did not even consider me as a suitor.’ He looked away, his face twisting with a painful mixture of anger and self-reproach and humiliation. ‘I warrant that it never even occurred to you that I would put myself forward in such a way.’

Charles said nothing.

‘No, I am sure you are waiting for a better offer than mine,’ Erik continued viciously, unable to stop himself from driving the dagger deeper. ‘For someone whom you do not despise, who has more smiles than frowns, whom you could bring yourself to look upon with friendship and more.’ He paused and let out a humourless laugh. ‘My sister would have me believe that your actions yesterday in the steelyard would compromise your position, that none would seek your hand for fear of the taint of your Ability, and that now was the time to strike in order to allow you to maintain your reputation—’

Charles jerked back. ‘My _reputation_?’ he repeated, incensed. ‘I do not need _you_ to save my reputation, sir! I need _no one_ for that because my reputation is intact! I did nothing that I ought to be ashamed of.’

‘I _know_ ,’ Erik growled, surging forward and barely restraining himself from catching hold of Mr. Xavier’s shoulders and shaking him. ‘Do you think that I believe the use of your abilities to be shameful? That I do not think that you should stand proud and free to be who you are? You know what I feel about the prejudices faced by our kind, Charles. You know that were we to marry I would happily stand beside you in championing our people, in promoting our cause to those who would sooner look away than face us head-on. You _know_ this.’

‘Our cause?’ Charles stared at him, his expression one of disbelief. ‘You would bring _that_ into the discussion – a discussion on marriage? Is _this_ then the reason for your proposal?’ he demanded, suddenly furious. ‘Simply as a platform to promote the standing of our people?’

‘No!’ Erik looked aghast.

Charles did not listen. ‘So that is why,’ he murmured to himself before angrily turning to Erik. ‘You are right, Mr. Lehnsherr, I _do_ know your views on the Extra Able, and I am _well_ aware of your passion for it, but I did not think that you would stoop this low in order to spread your message. You would ask me to marry you as a mere stratagem? As nothing more than a _duty_ to our people – as a defence of your own _politics_?’

‘No!’ Erik burst out in frustration, unable to contain himself any longer, ‘I ask you to marry me because I _love_ you!’

Charles’s face drained of all colour. He stared at Erik, his eyes wide and full of disbelief.

Erik uttered an internal curse and then flung himself forward, finally seizing Charles’s hands and clutching onto them. ‘I am in love with you,’ he said fiercely, forcing Charles to look him in the eye. ‘From the moment I saw you I knew that I wanted you by my side—

‘No,’ Charles shook his head. ‘I will not hear this.’

‘That I wanted you for my own, that you and I would be—’

‘ _No!_ ’ Charles abruptly wrenched himself away, pulling back and looking at Erik with angered disbelief. ‘You insult me with your words, sir. I do not wish to hear them. I in no way welcomed such attentions and you are wrong to try to push them upon me. I will not be convinced by your very sudden confession of feelings, and I _certainly_ won’t be moved by your using my reputation or the good opinion of society against me.’ He shook his head angrily, his face red with fury. ‘Your actions are low and unworthy, and whatever I might have thought about you before, they now make it _very_ clear to me that you are _not_ a gentleman, sir.’

Erik froze. _Not a gentleman_. Something in his chest _burned_ and he could not stop the bitterness that erupted from inside him. ‘A gentleman?’ he snarled. ‘You—’ He forced himself to breathe, clenching his hands into fists, his knuckles growing white. ‘And what is a gentleman to you, sir? One who is born in privilege? One who conducts himself to the highest of moral standards? No – do not answer,’ he said when Charles made to speak. ‘I do not wish to know what you have to say. You already know my story, Mr. Xavier. You know full well that I was neither born well, nor have I always conducted myself as I should. But you do me a great injustice, sir, for I have never, _never_ done anything less than what my heart and my conscience have demanded of me, and _that_ is why I came here, because conscience dictated that I ask for your hand, and my heart demanded that I cast all pride aside and beg it of you, and if these are not the words of a _gentleman_ then I cannot help it, because they are _mine_ and they are _true_ and that is all that I can be.’

Charles’s face was pale. He did not speak for a moment. When he did, his voice was strained. ‘I am sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘I did not mean to offend you—’

‘You did so, nonetheless!’ Erik snapped.

Charles grimaced and accepted the interruption with a forced smile. ‘It was not my intention to hurt you,’ he said in a quiet, deliberately calm tone of voice. ‘I simply – I reacted badly. You caught me by surprise. I was not at all expecting such an offer and my reaction …’ His voice trailed off and he sighed, shaking his head. ‘There is such a vast gulf in our understanding of each other, in our expectations. The events of yesterday might have indicated to you that I possessed some sort of feeling for you, Mr. Lehnsherr, but to me my actions were a product of simple humanity. It is what anyone would have done for a fellow being … at least,’ Charles’s brow clouded over. ‘It would have been where I come from in the south.’

‘Ah yes,’ the taut line of Erik’s mouth slid into a smile full of scorn. ‘The magical south, where the Extra Able are welcome and are free from discrimination.’

Charles coloured. ‘I never said that things were perfect in the south,’ he said defensively. ‘I merely stated the opinion that there is an altogether more _progressive_ attitude where I am—’

‘ _Progressive?_ ’ Erik’s expression darkened. ‘But of course. I almost forgot. You believe us all to be dirty cultureless heathens here in the north, Mr. Xavier.’

‘That is not what I meant!’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘You know it’s not!’ Charles said, struggling with his anger and embarrassment. ‘I simply meant that things are not done this way in the south, we don’t – no one ever—’ He stopped and inhaled deeply, trying to bring himself under control. ‘I am sorry,’ he said, calmer now but unable to fully hide his distress. ‘You must forgive me, I am – I’m not very good at this, I still don’t know how to reject—’

‘ _Still?_ ’ Erik looked up abruptly at that, his expression black. ‘You _still_ do not know to reject – what? Those such as myself? Those poor hapless suitors whom you scorn, who flock to you by the dozen? Is that it?’

‘No,’ Charles said, appalled. ‘Of course not, that’s not what I—’

‘But I am sure you have had many suitors,’ Erik continued, his mouth twisting bitterly, his hands clenching into fists by his side. ‘How could you not, being as you are? Men, women alike – I have seen how they are drawn to you. I was a fool to think that I – that I alone—’

‘Mr. Lehnsherr, please!’ 

‘How many do you turn away each week?’ Erik continued, determined to twist the knife deeper, although whether into his own heart or Charles’s he did not know. ‘Or is it each day? How tiresome we must be to you, worshipping at your feet, getting in your way when you wish so desperately to be rid of us!’

‘Stop it!’ Charles said harshly, sounding both wretched and angry. ‘You come here, claiming that it is I who wilfully misunderstand you but you are twice as guilty as I am of that crime! I’ve had enough, Mr. Lehnsherr. I am sorry that I am unable to give you the answer that you desire but I refuse to stand here and be so grossly insulted in my own home.’ He looked up at Erik, his eyes bright with anger. ‘You will leave my house now, sir. I do not wish to hear anything more from you this night.’

A momentary flash of pain and anger and regret crossed Erik’s face but within a second his expression was once more blank and unreadable. ‘You need not worry, Mr. Xavier,’ he said quietly, his tone grim and full of weary resignation. ‘You shall hear nothing more from me – this night or any night.’

And with that he nodded coldly at Charles and, turning on his heel, strode out of the room and made his own way out of the house that, so short a while ago, had contained the sum of all his hopes and dreams.

*****

Emma was waiting in her armchair for Erik to return, her position unchanged from when he had left her in the parlour earlier that afternoon. She sat facing the large bay windows, her seat affording her a view of the entire steelyard. It was by no means an attractive view, yet for Miss Frost it was a sight better than any other; everything her eyes alighted on belonged to her – or, to be precise, to her and Erik – and, having once had intimate knowledge of what it was to be a woman of no means and no property and on the edge of starvation, she took a fierce pride in the steel mill, a pride that was rivalled only by that of her brother, Mr. Lehnsherr.

She and Erik had known each other for almost the whole of their lives, both of them orphaned at an early age and left in a county parish to the mercies of a state that cared little for the impoverished and even less for the Extra Able. Bound together by their Abilities as well a burning, deep-seated desire to escape their situation, they had summarily adopted one another, first of all by word and later on, when they were able to afford it, by deed, drawing up legal papers that bound them one to another in effective siblinghood.

They had suffered together, she and Erik, but they had also triumphed together, and there was now no one in the world that Emma Frost held dearer.

Her dislike, then, of Mr. Xavier was only natural, she felt. She had always known that it was inevitable that Erik would marry someday; she herself had no desire for any other affection than his, but Erik … she knew very well that Erik had craved love his entire life and that, sooner or later, he would manage to find someone that he could give his heart to. 

She knew this – but it did not mean that she liked it any better for the knowledge.

She had wondered often since their first meeting whether her dislike of Mr. Xavier was a personal one or if it was simply the product of the almost instinctive knowledge that he would be the one to finally steal Erik’s heart away. She had yet to come to a conclusion. On the one hand, Mr. Xavier was arrogant and overly proud, full of the unwarranted self-superiority of the well-born and filled with idiotic notions about the world that only someone who had lived a soft and insulated life could have had. On the other hand, he was a telepath, like herself, and if there was one person in the whole world who could understand her – aside from Erik, of course – then it was Mr. Xavier, whose gifts were superior even to her own.

Perhaps if Erik had not cared so much for him. If Erik had shown only a casual interest in Mr. Xavier then perhaps she would have been the one to have formed a close association with him. Friendship was not a usual recourse for her, but perhaps for a fellow telepath she might have tried to thaw a little.

Now, however … well, Emma wasn’t one to waste time lingering on regrets and she had other things to worry about now. With Erik’s marriage she would have to get used to a new way of life – one away from Erik, if that was what Mr. Xavier should desire, or else sharing the same household with one more person added to the mix. Emma could not say which option she preferred less.

She grimaced and turned a grim eye on the steelyard, viewing it through the pane of the window. The timing was anything but convenient, she thought sourly. Erik had much more important matters than weddings to attend to; he needed to have the whole of his attention focused on dealing with the steel mill, not have his head stuck in the clouds and his wits dulled by lovesickness. 

The Genosha steel mill had always prided itself on offering equal opportunities to both human workers and the Extra Able. Erik had, early on in their venture, objected to hiring humans altogether, but Emma had soon talked him out of that. It was only sound business sense, after all, and it wouldn’t do to isolate potential buyers ahead of time, especially when they were yet to make their mark on the industry. As time went by, however, the Genosha Mill had steadily increased in profit and, accordingly, Erik and Emma had gradually started increasing the number of Extra Able in the workforce. 

This had not gone unnoticed. The humans, believing that their positions were being threatened by this influx of the Able – who by now outnumbered them in the workforce by almost twice their number – had immediately called on the power of the workers union and had organised a strike. Things had escalated ever since, culminating in the events of the day before, where the human workers, drunk on a little more than mere dissatisfaction, had charged the mill with the aim of attacking those Extra Able who were at work – and, Emma had no doubt – their masters as well. It had only been the intervention of Mr. Xavier that had saved them all from grievous harm, Emma knew, and things had subsided in the aftermath of the attack, but that did not mean that the mill was safely out of danger, or that Erik could afford to have his attentions divided. 

Emma sighed. Perhaps she could persuade her brother to enter into a prolonged engagement instead of a short one. That way they could deal with the mess in front of them before then turning their full attentions to the matter of the wedding. She only hoped that Erik had not made any foolish and unnecessary promises to Mr. Xavier ahead of discussing things with her.

The distant opening and shutting of a door broke her away from her thoughts. There was a sound of familiar footsteps in the hallway, and Emma allowed her expression to settle into one of polite anticipation, determined not to allow any negative feeling on her part to taint this moment for Erik.

The door behind her opened and shut and she heard footsteps approach. Emma did not turn her head away from the window. She just waited.

There was a pause in the steps before they started up again and, out of the corner of her eye, she watched Erik move to the liquor cabinet and reach for the nearest decanter.

A feeling of sudden heaviness entered Emma’s breast. Concerned, she narrowed her eyes and sent her thoughts towards Erik. A wave of anger and misery engulfed her and then, abruptly, those feelings were snatched back, as if a steel wall had been driven down between his mind and hers. Emma quickly glanced towards him, only to see Erik glaring back at her, his expression stormy.

‘Stay out of my head, Emma,’ he growled, before turning away from her, ostensibly to sort through the liquor cabinet, but Emma, who knew Erik all too well, knew that it was because he did not want to face her.

She needed no such intimacy, however, to realise what the cause of Erik’s misery was. 

Erik spoke before she could say anything. 

‘I do not need to tell you what happened,’ he said quietly.

Emma’s lips thinned. She kept silent.

‘You see, I was right after all, Emma,’ Erik’s voice was soft, toneless. ‘In the end, he would not have me.’

Emma’s face remained blank but her nails dug into the arms of her chair. ‘He would not have you,’ she repeated.

‘He does not love me.’ Although Erik’s voice was muffled Emma could hear the pain that was threaded through the words, the misery that he was barely able to keep in. ‘He does not love me and he does not care for me and he never will. I was a fool for thinking otherwise.’

‘ _He_ was the only fool,’ Emma hissed, unable to keep silent any longer, turning her head and training a fierce look on Erik’s turned back. ‘He is the only one who should feel badly, Erik – not you!’

At last, Erik turned to face her. His face was admirably impassive, although his eyes were not so unreadable. ‘Why?’ he asked, looking at her. ‘Why should he feel badly? He has done nothing wrong.’

Emma stared at him. ‘You defend him?’ she demanded, appalled. ‘Even now you defend him, after what he has done?’

‘He did nothing wrong,’ Erik said, sounding tired. ‘He did not love me and so he refused to marry me. How can I object to that?’

‘You can object on the grounds that it isn’t true!’ Emma said coldly. ‘He loves you, Erik, he—’

‘Emma, stop,’ Erik’s voice was strained. ‘I will not fight about this.’

Emma narrowed her eyes at his tone of resignation. ‘Won’t you?’ she asked sharply. ‘You cannot tell me that you are not angry, Erik. I know you too well for you to pretend otherwise.’ 

‘I am angry,’ Erik said quietly, ‘but it is more with myself than with him.’ He swallowed and looked away, his expression pained. ‘I knew he had no affection for me and yet I still chose to put myself forward. I knew that I had no chance and yet I still …’ He trailed off, unable to continue.

‘I don’t believe that for a second,’ Emma said coldly. ‘I have watched him, Erik, and I have seen how he is with you. How he is drawn to you in spite of himself, how his eyes light up when you come near him. He is not nearly as indifferent to you as he would like to be, and the only thing that prevents him from accepting you is his own damnable pride.’ She shook her head. ‘He thinks himself so above us because he is the son of a gentleman, but what has that given him now? His father’s wealth is no longer his but his stepbrother’s, and now he and his bedridden mother live in a house a fraction the size of our own – and yet he _dares_ to think himself above us! We, who are the authors of our own fortunes, who have worked hard to set ourselves where we now are. It ought to be _us_ looking down on _him_ , not the other way around!’

Erik glanced at her. ‘You are angry,’ he said.

Emma glared at him. ‘Of course I am angry,’ she said coldly. ‘He hurt you, Erik.’

Erik’s jaw tightened and he scowled. ‘That is my business,’ he said shortly. ‘The mistake was mine, Emma, not yours.’

‘Yet I pushed you towards him,’ Emma said, looking away bitterly. ‘I knew in my heart that he did not deserve you and I still encouraged you to go to him because I knew it would make you happy.’

Erik sighed. ‘You cannot blame yourself for this, Emma,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I would have done it even without your approval, you know this. I – I would not have you make an enemy of Mr. Xavier simply because I was the one to—’

‘You are too late, Erik,’ Emma shook her head. ‘My feelings have already been made up on this matter.’ 

‘Emma, you must not—’

‘I hate him.’ Emma said flatly. She met Erik’s eyes, unflinching. ‘I _hate_ him,’ she said again, this time more viciously, not caring to hide the anger she felt. ‘He hurt you, Erik, and I hate him for it and there is nothing that will change this.’

‘Emma—’ Erik began, sounding pained. 

Emma shook her head. ‘I cannot help it. I tried not to hate him before, for your sake, knowing that it would hurt you were I to say it, but now I can hold it in no longer. I hate him, Erik, and I curse the day that you met him.’

Erik lowered his head. ‘I am afraid that part of me that prevented you from saying so before remains unchanged,’ he said quietly. ‘For it hurts me even now to hear you say this.’

A flicker of emotion passed over Emma’s face at this but her face soon smoothened out into a mask of cool composure. ‘I am sorry for it,’ she said, her tone more gentle. ‘But it only angers me more, knowing how even the thought of him has the ability to hurt you.’

‘It is not the thought of him that hurts me, Emma.’

‘Isn’t it?’ Emma demanded. She turned to look at Erik’s mulish expression and sighed, her eyes drifting back to the windows. ‘Charles Xavier has taken up enough of your time and your thoughts, Erik,’ she said softly. ‘It would be better for all of us if you were to forget him.’

Erik shook his head. ‘It is not so easy as that, Emma,’ he said tiredly. ‘I wish it were, but it’s not.’

‘No?’ Emma asked. ‘It could be, you know. You know what I can do, Erik. If you would allow it of me I would take away all your memory of him, should you but ask.’

Erik turned to glare at her. ‘You know what my answer to that will be.’

‘I do,’ Emma agreed. ‘But the offer stands, nonetheless.’

Erik watched her for a moment and then sighed. ‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I thank you for your offer, Emma, but no. That is no solution – not for this. This is something that I must bear by myself.’

Emma’s brow darkened but she bowed her head. ‘As you wish,’ she said quietly. ‘I only hoped that there was something that I could do for you to help you be rid of this pain.’

Erik paused in the act of reaching for the decanter in front of him, and slowly withdrew his arm. ‘There is one thing you could do for me, Emma,’ he said quietly.

‘Anything,’ Emma said at once.

Erik slowly turned around. He met her eyes. ‘Never speak to me of Charles Xavier ever again,’ he said.

Emma’s nostrils flared. She raised her chin and returned his gaze unwaveringly. ‘His name shall never be spoken of again in this house,’ she vowed.

Erik held her eyes for a moment. Then he turned and, ignoring the decanter in front of him, slowly walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Emma eyed the closed door for a long while, her forehead ever so slightly creased. A minute later, her brow smoothed out again. Turning her head, she returned her gaze to the windows in front of her, and, removing all thoughts of Charles Xavier from her mind, she began once more her watch over the steelyard, just as she did each day, once again the mistress of her domain.


	2. One Word More ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because people seem to want a happy ending for this. Enjoy :)

Charles looked out of the window as the train pulled to a slow stop at Muir station, holding in a sigh at the loud hiss of steam that came from the engine. He watched as the guard disembarked and then bit his lip as other passengers gradually began to do the same. It appeared that they would be stopping for quite some time.

Henry McCoy looked up from where he had been studying his newspaper, a slight frown on his brow that quickly cleared. ‘Ah,’ he said, glancing out of the window. ‘We’re already at Muir. Don’t worry, Charles, the train always stops here when travelling this route. I should think that we have a good quarter hour here before the train moves on.’

Charles gave him a polite smile in response and turned back to the window, pretending not to notice the fond way that Mr. McCoy was smiling at him. He knew all too well that Henry still held a torch for him, despite Charles having refused him once before. He had rather hoped that his kind but firm rejection would have put an end to Henry’s hopes – and, for a time, it appeared that it had – but upon Charles’s return to his sister’s house following the death of his mother, it seemed that Mr. McCoy’s hopes had been reignited. Charles blamed Raven and her husband for that – Hank, as they called him, was Azazel’s friend, and the couple seemed very keen to see he and Charles happily settled down together in what they had more than once called a “truly inspired” match. 

Charles, unfortunately, did not feel the same way. Hank was kind, yes, and gentle and good, and his intelligence was truly a marvel, but when Charles thought of love, his was not the face that came to mind.

Charles bit his lip and lowered his head. His understanding had come too late, far too late. The attraction had been there all along, he realised that now, but the knowledge – the knowledge had only come after, and by then the damage had been done. His elation at the realisation had thus been tempered by the grief he had felt, knowing as he did that his chance had gone. 

Suddenly feeling stifled in the overly warm carriage, Charles tugged at his cravat and turned to Hank. ‘I’m going to get out and stretch my legs,’ he said, already rising from his seat. ‘I’m feeling too hot in here.’ Hank at once set his paper down and made to get to his feet but Charles cut him off before he could rise. ‘There’s no need to get up, Hank, I’m only going for a stroll along the platform.’

Hank studied him for a moment before nodding and giving him a hesitant smile. ‘I’ll open the window,’ he promised, settling back in his seat. ‘Allow a little of the air to come in.’

‘Thank you,’ Charles said, giving him a brief smile, before quickly turning and leaving the carriage. 

‘Charles, your hat!’ Hank called after him, picking it up from where it lay discarded on the seat, but Charles was already gone.

The air was cool on his skin as he strolled down the station platform. Charles closed his eyes and turned his head into the breeze, revelling in the sensation of the wind against his face. 

Although he did not like to admit it, a small part of him was glad that the train had been delayed. He was eager to see Milton and the north again, of course he was – but at the same time he could not help feeling slightly nervous about it as well. It had been almost a year since his mother had died and he had left the tiny lodgings they had shared for his sister’s house. Miss MacTaggert had accompanied him as well, which was something to be glad for in a period that had seen so many changes occur to his life. Indeed, his mother’s death had affected Charles more than he had thought it would, and he spent the first few months at Raven’s house feeling more than a little lost, afflicted by grief and a peculiar yearning to return to the place that, only a short while ago, he would have believed himself desperate to escape from. 

He grew less subdued with time, but he had barely recovered his spirits when a second thunderbolt had struck, though this time it was vastly more palatable than the last shock he had received. Word came from the Naval Office that his stepbrother – who had usurped the Xavier fortune after the death of Charles’s stepfather, Kurt Marko, turning both Charles and his mother out of their home and leaving them with a mere pittance to survive upon – had died whilst abroad, leaving no will or heirs to the fortune, which therefore reverted back to its rightful owner, which happened to be Charles. 

Charles hadn’t known how to react to this news. Neither Kurt nor Cain had ever showed him any measure of kindness during their lifetimes, and he had not grieved for his stepfather upon the man’s death. For Cain he had always felt something akin to pity, at least until he had stolen the Xavier fortune and had turned Charles and his mother out of the house with only the clothes upon their backs. Even now Charles remained endlessly grateful for the fact that Raven had already been married by that point; not only did it spare her the suffering and indignity of being cast aside in such a manner, but it also gave Charles and his mother a place to turn to after being evicted from their own home. In any case, Charles felt no grief at the news of his stepbrother’s passing, and no belated stab of conscience had yet appeared to alter this tranquillity; it helped that there were dark rumours surrounding Cain at the time of his death, with whispers of treason and mutiny doing little to convince Charles to feel very badly about the loss.

The money, on the other hand, was a more difficult matter. 

For days after inheriting the fortune that ought to have been his by right, Charles simply sat and did nothing, still rather reeling from the shock of it all. Raven had been often by his side at that point, leaving the care of young baby Kurt to a competent Miss MacTaggert, who had been absorbed into the household with admirable ease. On the fifth day, Charles had finally stood up, kissed Raven on the cheek, and had headed into town and gone straight to the bank, at last ready to deal with the consequences of once more becoming a very wealthy young man. He had spent the day with bankers and lawyers, finding out what he was worth and what investments he now had in his name, and one of the first things he had done after signing the few dozen papers that were presented for his signature was open a trust for his nephew Kurt, knowing that Raven would object to receiving any money for herself or her husband, but that she would not be able to do the same when it came to her child. 

Charles had spent the time since then dealing with the money and the estate, which Cain had rather unsurprisingly left languishing and uncared for. It had taken up a good deal of his time, but he had been ably helped in his venture by Hank, who had a surprisingly good head for business matters. 

It was for that reason why Mr. McCoy was accompanying him now. The more that Charles thought about it, though, the more he wished that he had asked Henry to stay at home. Things were – they were _different_ in the north, although not in the way that Charles had thought when he had first arrived there. Henry was a gentle soul, and really very intelligent, but he wouldn’t _understand_. How could he, when it had taken so very long for Charles himself to discover the charms of the place even while living there?

That was not the only reason he did not wish for Hank to accompany him, however. For some reason – a reason that, deep in his heart, he knew quite well although he hardly dared to voice it out loud – he did not wish for Hank to be present when he made the offer that he was going to make today. It was a business offer, and therefore purely professional … but Charles still wished that he could keep this meeting private, that he could greedily keep the memory of it all to himself and share it with no one else, no matter how badly it might go or how unhappily he might be received.

Charles had, after all, no reason to think that his arrival would be anything other than unwanted, despite the lifeline that he would be offering. He only hoped that any future association with him would be considered the lesser evil in the matter at hand.

It had been a calm and innocuous morning the day he had heard about the inevitable closure of the Genosha steel mill. Azazel had mentioned it in passing, while scouring the morning’s paper, and Charles had immediately gone still, unable to speak. According to the papers, Genosha had run afoul of a certain Mr. Shaw, who had invested heavily in the mill at its inception. It was unclear on what matter the two parties had fallen out over, but the end result was that Shaw had immediately withdrawn all support, both financial and otherwise, leaving the mill floundering and in the direst of straits. From all accounts, the mill would close within the week.

Charles had gone cold at the news. He had spent the rest of the day in a daze, feeling wretched and anxious, before he had abruptly realised that there was a solution staring him in the face the entire time. He passed the night without sleep, lying on his bed and making plans inside his head, and rose the next morning even before the servants had started their preparations. By the time the family came down for breakfast he was already gone, having caught the first hansom into town in order to spend the day with his lawyers. He arrived home late, had a hurried discussion with Hank in the library, and had then immediately gone to bed, leaving Raven astonished by his behaviour.

The next morning he and Hank were on a direct train to Milton, and had thus arrived that same afternoon at Muir station.

Charles sighed, pushing away his doubts and fears. This would work, he told himself sternly. The offer he was making was fair – more than fair, his lawyers had said, raising their eyebrows at Charles’s proposal. Even Hank had looked surprised, although he had only mentioned it once to make sure that Charles knew what he was doing before tactfully dropping the matter. The only thing that could scupper the deal now was pride, and Charles knew more than enough about his potential future business partners to know that this posed a very real threat. 

He continued to muse on this as he walked, watching idly as a second train slowly pulled into the opposite platform, letting out a gush of steam as it came to a stop. He watched as a guardsman started chatting with the waiting signalman, and gathered that, like his own train, this one would be halting at Muir station for a short time. 

He stood back, watching as the steam and the smoke slowly dissipated, revealing a number of passengers getting off the train. Some of them were disembarking at Muir, but the majority of them were, like himself, simply taking the opportunity to stretch their legs. He smiled as he saw a small child scamper off, dragging her laughing father behind her, and followed them with his gaze as they scurried up the platform and were gradually swallowed up by the clouds of steam. Charles squinted a little, trying to see if he could see through the mist, but they seemed to be gone. There was no one there except for a man, standing tall and straight, and looking right back at him …

Charles’s breath caught in his throat.

He watched, dazed, as the man strode forward, each step as confident and determined as the last, until he was suddenly standing in front of Charles, their faces bare centimetres away from each other.

‘Mr. Xavier.’

Charles could not speak. After a minute, his throat became unstuck and he was able to stammer out a greeting. ‘Mr. Lehnsherr.’ He flushed when he realised that he was staring and immediately took pains to get himself under control. ‘I – I did not expect to see you here.’

‘Nor I you.’ 

There was a strange warmth to his words, a tenderness there that Charles was sure he was imagining, knowing full well that he did not deserve any such gentleness. Screwing up his courage, Charles chanced a glance at him, and then immediately felt like dropping his gaze. Erik was looking at him with such a soft expression on his face, one so different from anything that Charles had ever seen on him. Charles swallowed, a strange feeling welling up inside his breast that he had never felt before. ‘Where are you going, if you don’t mind me asking?’ he somehow managed to ask, hoping the flush had receded from his cheeks.

A small smile touched Erik’s lips. ‘Ask rather where I have been,’ he said mysteriously.

Charles’s brow puckered. ‘Very well,’ he said, frowning. ‘Where have you been?’

Erik smiled. ‘Guess,’ he said playfully.

Charles gazed at him in surprise. He had never heard such a tone from Erik’s lips. ‘I could not say,’ he said, shaking his head and feeling strangely dull-witted. ‘You will have to tell me.’

In response, Erik reached into the pocket of his coat. As Charles watched, bemused, he withdrew a carefully folded white handkerchief, laying it flat on the palm of his left hand. As Charles watched, he slowly unfolded the handkerchief, revealing, carefully nestled inside –

‘Cornflowers,’ Charles breathed. ‘ _Centaurea cyanus_.’ He looked up at Erik in shock. ‘You – you went to Graymalkin.’ 

‘Yes,’ Erik smiled faintly. ‘I did.’ His eyes dipped down towards the flowers. ‘It was just as you described it,’ he murmured. ‘And the flowers – they were there, just as you once said.’ His eyes returned to Charles’s face. ‘Almost as blue as your eyes.’

‘Almost?’ Charles found himself repeating, feeling dazed.

Erik smiled again. ‘Almost,’ he agreed, watching as Charles gently traced a finger down the delicate stem. 

‘But – why?’ Charles looked up at him, unable to hide his confusion. ‘Why did you go there? At such a time, when—’ he swallowed. ‘I know about the mill, about what is happening. I know you must be—’

‘I wanted to see the place where you came from,’ Erik interrupted gently, withdrawing his hand and carefully tucking the handkerchief back into his pocket. ‘To see this place that formed you, that you held so very close to your heart.’ He smiled wryly. ‘I understand now, why you could never the love the north with its stone and smoke and poverty. Your home … the south – it is beautiful.’

Charles looked down at the ground. ‘I wouldn’t say never,’ he said awkwardly, not meeting Erik’s eyes. ‘It appears that I was wrong to say that the north has no charm. It – it has its own beauty, if you care to look for it.’

A curious light entered Erik’s eyes and he stared at Charles with a strange intensity. Charles waited for him to speak, his heart beating faster for no discernable reason. 

‘You did not think so at first,’ Erik said at last, choosing his words with visible care.

Charles grimaced. ‘I was something of a fool,’ he admitted, shaking his head. ‘I remember, you called me naïve when we first met. I recall taking offence at you then, but – perhaps you were not entirely wrong.’

‘Perhaps I was not entirely right either,’ Erik added quietly.

‘No,’ Charles smiled. ‘Perhaps not.’

They stood together in silence until one of the trains – Charles’s train – gave a sharp whistle, indicating that it would be leaving soon.

‘Is that your train?’ Erik asked, frowning slightly.

‘Yes,’ Charles nodded. He bit his lip. ‘It goes to Milton.’

Erik went still. ‘Milton?’ he repeated.

‘Yes,’ Charles lowered his eyes. ‘I was on my way to see you.’

Erik sucked in a breath, staring at Charles. 

Charles shifted awkwardly on the spot. ‘I am surprised that you do not take the same train,’ he said lightly, trying his best not to redden under the scrutiny. ‘Are you not travelling home?’

Erik shook his head. ‘I am on my way to see my lawyers in the city,’ he said, sounding distracted. ‘I have an appointment with them to discuss the fate of the mill.’

‘Oh,’ Charles immediately straightened up. ‘Then I am very glad I caught you when I did. I would hate to have been too late!’

‘Late?’ Erik asked, surprised, but Charles was already hurrying on.

‘I am not sure you know it,’ he said, speaking rapidly. ‘But I recently came into a bit of money. Well – quite a bit of money, really, and – well, you see I really do not know what to do with half of it, and the most sensible thing to do really just seemed to be to invest it—’

Erik stared at Charles, a strange look coming over his face.

‘And I’ve looked around, of course I have, but the thing is, I don’t _know_ these industries that I’ve been asked to invest in, and I don’t _know_ the people who I am being asked to go into business with …’

Erik watched him closely, a soft expression starting to steal into his eyes.

‘And I was really in a great deal of trouble – both my sister and my lawyers kept on harping on at me to invest, and my brother-in-law even suggested investing in _bridges_ for heaven’s sake – but then I heard about Genosha and how you were in need of a – of a _patron_ , after Mr. Shaw used you all so badly, and I thought … well, it would make the most sense, and this way I would really be able to promote Extra Able employment, which is something that I feel really very strongly about …’

A smile was spreading over Erik’s face and he was looking down at Charles with almost heartbreaking fondness, and Charles was finding it slightly hard to breathe in the face of it, but he forced himself to continue. 

‘And you see, I would be getting a good amount of interest from the investment, so it will pay everything back by itself in time, and I get a stake in the mill itself, which is worth a great deal, of course …’ Charles glanced up at Erik and then immediately had to look back down again, unable to face the tenderness he saw there. ‘So – so you see, it’s not charity, if that’s what you’re worrying about, because I’m really getting a very good deal out of this. Too good, in fact – we can negotiate if that’s what you want, I am very open to it, and—’

‘Charles,’ Erik said gently, interrupting him, but Charles raced on.

‘Oh, I’ve explained it horribly, haven’t I?’ Charles said, still looking away from Erik’s face, still unable to look at him. ‘I promise you there’s a plan, Erik – I should just go and get Hank, he’ll be able to—’ he made to turn away but Erik’s hand shot out, clutching his arm and turning him back so that they were chest to chest, with Charles feeling a little breathless as they gazed at each other, his eyes finally meeting Erik’s.

‘Say it again,’ Erik murmured, the hand on Charles’s arm gentling, turning into a slow, almost timid caress. 

‘Say what?’ Charles breathed, his chest tight.

‘My name,’ and Erik smiled, a smile brighter than any Charles had seen him wear, all toothsome and genuinely happy. ‘You said my name. You have never said it before.’

‘Have I not?’ Charles asked, feeling slightly dazed. ‘Perhaps not in front of you, but in my head I do it all the time.’

‘We are not all telepaths, Mr. Xavier,’ Erik reminded him smilingly.

‘No,’ Charles agreed. ‘That is true. Although,’ he bit his lip, ‘Being a telepath does not always mean that one sees things clearly as they are.’

Erik watched him, his expression still gentle. ‘No?’ he murmured, his voice low and intimate. ‘And how are things as you see them now, Mr. Xavier?’

‘Charles,’ Charles said, leaning forward so that their faces were millimetres apart. ‘Call me—’

‘Charles!’

Charles jerked back in surprise, caught unawares by the interruption. He blinked slowly, gathering his wits, and turned his head to see Hank leaning out of the train window and hurriedly beckoning him over.

‘It appears your train is leaving,’ Erik remarked neutrally, following his gaze.

‘Yes,’ Charles agreed. He made no motion to return just yet.

Erik paused. ‘Will you not get on it?’

Charles bit his lip. At that moment there was another blast of a train whistle, this time from the train on the other platform. 

‘That is your train,’ Charles remarked, glancing up at Erik.

‘So it is,’ Erik agreed.

‘Are _you_ not going back on it?’

Erik didn’t answer. Instead he nodded towards Charles’s train. ‘Your companion is waiting,’ he said.

Charles glanced back, catching sight of a slightly panicked Hank, and grimaced. ‘The thing is,’ he said, trying very hard not to give in to Hank’s pleading looks. ‘The whole point of going to Milton was to see you, but now that I have found you here it seems … illogical to travel all the way north when I know very well that you will not be there.’

Erik hummed thoughtfully. ‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘it would be illogical.’

‘But you,’ Charles continued, fidgeting with his hands, ‘You have an appointment with your lawyers – a very important appointment, by all accounts, and it would not be right for you to be late, or to – or to miss it entirely.’

‘No it wouldn’t,’ Erik agreed. He studied Charles’s face thoughtfully. ‘Then again, I am sure that they will be very forgiving when I tell them the reason for my absence.’

‘Oh?’ Charles breathed.

‘Even lawyers have a bit of romance buried deep in their hearts,’ Erik said, smiling. ‘And I am sure that they would agree that it would be remiss of me to ignore such an opportunity as this.’

Charles’s eyes had widened. ‘Opportunity?’ he repeated hesitantly. Then, ‘Oh,’ he said, feeling oddly disappointed. ‘You mean the business offer.’

Erik raised an eyebrow just as there came two sharp blasts of a whistle. Then, as one, the trains on either side of the platform departed, one heading north and the other south.

Charles only glanced back once, to see poor Hank’s head still leaning out of the train window, an expression of helpless resignation on his face. He sighed, feeling a little guilty, before turning back to Erik, who was watching him fondly.

‘Charles,’ he said, his voice warm and exasperated and so, _so_ dear. He inched forward, moving so close that their chests brushed against each other, and he slowly raised his arm, moving his hand until his fingers brushed Charles’s chin, lifting it gently upwards. ‘I was not talking about the mill.’

‘No?’ Charles whispered. 

Erik smiled. ‘No,’ he said.

And then he bent down and Charles closed his eyes, just in time for Erik’s lips to brush against his, soft and tender and sweeter than anything that Charles had ever felt before in his life. 

_Oh_ , he thought, and then he melted into the kiss, bringing up his arms to clasp Erik’s shoulders, while Erik’s hands cupped his cheeks reverently, and they parted for a moment to smile shyly at each other, before once more moving forward and pressing their lips together.

They stood there, entwined, until at last they were forced to move apart for the sake of breath. Breathing heavily, they leaned against each other so that their foreheads were pressed close, and Charles, looking at the man opposite him, could hardly move for sheer happiness – a happiness that he did not think could grow any greater until Erik spoke.

‘Marry me,’ Erik whispered, his expression tender, the words brushing like velvet against Charles’s lips. 

And Charles, his voice gone and his breath unsteady and his heart close to overflowing in his chest, smiled, closed his eyes, and said _Yes_.


End file.
